


The Stranger

by Wolf_of_Winterfell



Series: The Stranger [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anger, Death, F/M, Memories, Pain, Regret, Stranger - Freeform, Weddings, a changed man, faith - Freeform, little bird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Winterfell/pseuds/Wolf_of_Winterfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor is on the road with Arya Stark but is dying from his injuries at the Trident.</p>
<p>With some encouragement from an unlikely source, he looks back on his life and wonders whether things could have been different for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one, intended to be easy reading.
> 
> Inspiration was taken from Charles Dickens. Enjoy!

Sandor came to with a start. His head was fuzzy and he could feel a stab of pain in his thigh.

His back ached from leaning against a boulder. Unbidden, flashes of Blackwater Bay came to mind, followed by the aftermath they had seen outside the Red Wedding. Arya Stark. The Stark bitch! She'd abandoned him here in The Trident to die in agony. He remembered begging her for the gift of mercy after his injuries turned bad but she rode off on her mare and didn't look back, not before relieving him of any gold he had left. He chuckled despite the situation,  he would have done exactly the same, maybe she had hope of survival yet.

As he squirmed, attempted to sit up straight, he noticed a figure observing him from down by his feet. His eyes followed the dark clothes up towards the face,  which was obscured by a dark hood.

At first, he thought he'd finally flipped and lost his senses. It couldn't be, could it?

Sandor heard the figure speak in soft tones which were neither male or female. Not like that cockless eunach Varys. This was a true person devoid of gender. Although he could hear what was being said, the voice didn't seem to be emanating from the figure. 

"Sandor Clegane, we meet at long last. You have evaded me many times when others would have perished. You mortal life is ended, you belong to me now".

If he was correct, the figure before him was of the Stranger, the embodiment of death in the Faith of The Seven.

..............

The figure spoke again.

"Why so shocked? Despite professing not to believe, you invoked my name many times using me as a curse to shock and disgust. You named your warhorse after me."

Sandor could only gape in amazement. 

"Is this what the Seven Hells looks like?" It looked just like the Trident to him.

"The great Hound was never going to die in his bed of old age, surrounded by his family. You died as you lived, in agony and alone. That was your choice. Granted, your physical injuries bested you this time. Your Hell was on this earth, so that's where we remain". Sandor could see no face,, it was disconcerting. 

"If I'm dead, why in buggery do I still hurt all over?" 

"You are newly passed. Come". The figure motioned to the side, for Sandor to stand. 

Sandor didn't seemed to have moved but he was stood looking at his own body. His scars were worse than he remembered, a layer of filth covered his skin from fighting and travelling with the Stark girl. He was slightly skinnier than he could recall,  food had been hard to come by on the road

"I can't say I'm fucking happy about this!" In truth, Sandor had no clue what to think or feel.

"Birth and death are the great levellers, one naturally follows the other for all men. You can rail against me and try to evade me but death comes to all who ever lived, it's the natural order". Sandor hadn't really thought about it.

"You sent me many souls who should have lived on. It wasn't their time." It wasn't an accusation, Sandor saw it as a statement of fact.

He nodded. "Aye. I never said I wasn't a horrible bastard, not much I can do about it now mind." 

The cloaked figure turned to him. With a swish of the cloak, the scenery melted away.

...................

A small stone Keep. Home. A home Sandor had gone out of his way to avoid for most of his life. 

"Why have you brought me here?" Sandor wanted to be anywhere else.

"Acceptance of death often comes as a result of acknowledging you are at the end of the road and can travel no further. I have a gift for you".

As the Stranger stopped speaking, a large male child ran past, being pursued by a much larger boy. "Get here Sandor! I want to play!!" The larger boy was roaring at the smaller one in a not so playfull fashion. "Gregor? That's me and Gregor!" Sandor blanched. "No! I don't want to see this again. Don't make me live this again!" 

They were in the hall of the Keep. A fire roared in the hearth. The small Sandor was playing with a soldier. A shout. A flash of movement. A blood curdling scream. Gregor had Sandor's face against the brazier. "No!" Adult Sandor's hand flew unconsciously to his burnt side. Tears streamed down his face. "Why? I know what happened!" Adult Sandor ran to his past self's aid. He attempted to push Gregor off but was grasping thin air. 

"There's no point. You are an observer here. This has already happened, you can't change it". Sandor's father ran into the room, just as he had all those years ago and ran straight through the Stranger. 

"I ASKED WHY!" Sandor was raging.

"It shaped who you are. You were afraid of Gregor before he did this to you but this made you more like him". The Stranger's words weren't accusing.

"I'm nothing like him!" Sandor was outraged.

"Why are you keeping up the pretense? Dead men have no secrets. You enjoyed killing, even though you knew it was wrong. You used your position of Joffrey's sworn shield to mete out cruelty and enjoyed invoking fear. You had more self control and less natural cruelty than Gregor but the similarities remain. The burns he gave you made you harden yourself and lose some of your humanity". 

Sandor didn't have a response for that.

.............

In a flash, they were back by Sandor's body at the Trident. 

Sandor knelt down and closed his eyes, willing himself out of this dream.

"This is happening. You aren't asleep. You are still dead". The Stranger reassured him.

Sandor stood up and was in a frosty field. A chubby red haired boy ran past, running for his life. His round face glowed red with exertion but he was too terrified to stop, his eyes darted here and there, trying to find somewhere to hide. Sandor watched as he darted around a tree and tried to slow his breathing. 

Hooves collided with the solid ground in the distance, the boy began to cry, realising the futility of trying to outrun the fearsome horse and its equally fearsome rider. The buther's boy was so young, Sandor had forgotten that. 

Sandor saw himself, atop his horse, lazily hunting down the child. "Come on boy! I want to get back. We can make this easy or difficult". Sandor watched his past self dismount. He remembered that he had known exactly where the red haired boy would be. He watched as he pulled his sword out of its scabbard, and darted around the tree. Pure terror had clouded the boy's eyes. The Hound's reputation was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, a resignation hit the boy. Sandor watched his own mouth say, "nothing personal" before plunging the blade into the boy's heart. Sandor watched himself load the boy's body on to his horse and stroll whistling back to Winterfell. 

"A boy, tracked down and extinguished before he could really live". The Stranger was matter of fact.

"I was commanded to!" Sandor was indignant. 

"That is true. I'm not showing you these events to condemn you. They are the events that have stuck in your memory, whether you recognise it or not". 

.............

Sandor recognised the Throne Room as soon as it appeared. A stripped Sansa Stark was being beaten by members of the Kinsguard as her bethrothed watched in glee. Sandor snarled.

"That's a more honest response" The Stranger observed.

Sandor knew better than to try and intervene. Instead, he looked at his past self. Torment was written on his face, he was twitching as her sobs and pleas echoed around the room.

He watched as he ripped his white cloak off and threw it to her to preserve her modesty.

"That's the point you realised you had feelings for her isn't it?"

Sandor shook his head. 

"You always used to say that a dog will die for you but never lie to you. Shame that didn't extend to lying to yourself". The Stranger's voice was emotionless. 

...............

The night the Blackwater burned. Sansa Stark's room.

He watched himself lying on her bed, jumping up as she came in and bolted the door. He had pressed a dagger to her throat, demanded a song, wanted her to flee with him.

Gods, how different things could have been.

It was all wrong.

.............

He was once again looking down at his dead body.

All the rage of the past had left him, he felt hollow and deflated.

The Stranger was silent and motionless.

"I fucked my whole life up didn't I?" Sandor's face was blank.

"Not many men realise that until it is too late". The Stranger was still.

............

A wedding. A bride waited to be cloaked by her lord. Laughter from the guests, led by Joffrey.

Sandor didn't recognise this wedding. He didn't think he'd been there.

Running to the front, he saw the forms of Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark. Neither looked happy,  the Imp couldn't cloak his new wife.

.............

Sansa Stark came into focus. She was changed. Her willowy form was great with child, she rested her hand on her belly.

Was this the Imp's child? How long had Sandor been dead? How far in the past were they? Sansa was more beautiful than ever. Her skin glowed, radiating health and happiness. Had marrying the Imp been her choice? Surely whelping a lion cub wouldn't be her dream?

She suddenly shouted, "Quick! Your son is kicking!" A great clattering from down the hallway and her Lord husband sped over to feel his child kick from within his wife. Sandor couldn't believe his eyes.

It was him.

Sandor watched himself place a hand on Sansa Stark's swollen belly, eyes wide in happiness as the child within kicked his big hand. "He's feisty, like you Lady Clegane." Sansa grinned back at him. "He's got the Clegane tolerance for being prodded, my love" Sansa japed. Sandor watched himself lean in and kiss her. Sansa fucking Stark had his child in her womb and was happy about it

.............

He was shaking all over as he stood next to the Stranger.

"Why did you show me that? It's not a memory and hardly fucking likely to happen, with me being a dead man and all". 

"Why does it bother you? " The Stranger was direct.

"If I hadn't have fucked my life up and been a cunt to her... I repulse her. She knows I'm a killer. Can you imagine a Stark being married to me? She would have been miserable, if it ever could have happened at all. An ugly dog and the most beautiful woman in the world". Sandor stared off into the distance. "Why are you tormenting me! I'm dead! Is this for all the bad shit i've done? I'm sorry, what else can i say! Take me to the afterlife you thrice damned cunt! Stranger or no..."

"You think that when she prays to the Gods, I don't hear? Not many people invoke me but I am aware of every desperate prayer to the Gods old and new. She has petitioned me a couple of times, begging an end to her suffering. The 7 are inextricably linked, different faces of the same being. You've seen flashes of what could have been, as well as what is and has already been."

"What does that even mean?" Sandor was sick of this mummer's farce.

He lunged at the Stranger and ripped the hood from it's face. He muttered an oath as he fell back. Staring back at him was his own burnt face.

...........

Sandor opened his eyes, standing by his feet was a hooded figure.

"Fucking Others take me" he closed his eyes and willed this torment to end.

"Alas not, luckily for you I found you on the Trident. I am Elder Brother and you are on the Quiet Isle" the hooded figure pushed back his hood to reveal an elderly brother.

"The Stranger?" Sandor was scared to ask.

"Had you firmly in his grasp, had it not been for our skilled healer, you would have been His permanent guest. I recovered a great black horse with you, he wouldn't leave and followed us here. Nasty tempered fellow, he's in our stables for as long as they can hold him". 

Sandor closed his eyes in relief. 

He had a second chance, he had to make it work.


End file.
